Page 26 of Juan

They read a few more pages as everyone settled, both Ryan and Leo squatting down to say a quick hello to Zoe. The others had done the same while Zoe had explored. Each stopping by one at a time, to introduce themselves and either asking her a question or pointing out something quirky in the room as they did. Her heart ached with love for this group of people she’d found—so gentle yet so strong.

When everyone found their seats, Spencer on the couch next to where she sat on the floor, his leg warm against her side, Ryan cleared his throat.

“None of us can even begin to guess what’s going on, or what happened the night Zoe was born,” he said. “Adrian, Clara, who wants to shed some light on it for us?”

Chapter thirteen

“Iwill,” Clara said. “I was the only one there that night.”

Amber stirred against Juan’s leg, but kept her head down, quietly chatting and reading with Zoe.

“I never liked Anthony Ely,” Clara started. “Believe me, as a NICU nurse, I saw enough women in Amber’s situation, enough men like Anthony, to spot the bastards a mile away.”

Juan considered suggesting she watch her language around Zoe but held his tongue. Zoe was learning to talk, but sometimes, no other words would do.

“That night, I was up in my attic. It’s my crafting spot. The light’s not great, so I’m not usually up there at that time. But that night, a friend from the hospital I worked at called me and told me about a set of triplets born to a nineteen-year-old girl whose parents had kicked her out. I was making quilts for the babies and giving a lot of thought to how we could help the girl.” She paused and took a drink of the whiskey Lovell had poured for her. It wasn’t yet three in the afternoon, but Juan sensed this was the first time either mother or daughter had relaxed in a good long while.

“I’d just turned the light off when I saw a man, not Anthony, walk down Amber’s old driveway toward the road. Now that’s uncommon enough in our neighborhood—usually the only thing you see moving in the streets are the slick luxury cars coming or going. But he was also carrying something. I couldn’t tell what from my attic window, but when he stopped at the end of the drive, glanced around, then started across the street… Well, I know a furtive look when I see one. I know when someone’s up to no good.

“So I watched. He seemed to assess something. I wasn’t sure what at first, but a minute later, I knew. It was garbage night, and everyone’s bins were out. He walked to one two doors down, across the street from mine. One not visible from the owner’s house because of the curve of the driveway. Or visible from mine because of the hedges and trees. At least not visible from the first or second floor. Unfortunately for him, I could see everything from the attic.”

“Did you get a look at the man?” Ryan asked. Juan’s gaze flickered to the chief of police. He looked relaxed, leaning forward, elbow on the table, notebook open, but the grip he had on his pen said otherwise.

She shook her head. “No, it was too dark. But he had a funny walk. Not a limp, but he sort of rocked side to side.”

Amber jerked and looked up. “Corey Osborne,” she said. “He and Anthony went to high school together. He’s an EMT and, well, he came to the house a few times when I needed…medical care but Anthony wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. They had a weird relationship. Corey worshipped Anthony.” She paused, then added quietly, “I think seeing me the way he saw me, usually bruised, beaten, helpless, excited him.”

Juan’s chest burned as he added Corey Osborne to his mental hit list. Not that he planned to take out the two men in cold blood, but if the chance ever arose, he wouldn’t mind if either of them left this earthly plane. Painfully.

“Anthony Ely is a first-class piece of shit that should be scraped off the bottom of my shitkickers and flushed down the public sewage system. It doesn’t surprise me that he collected twats like Osborne around him,” Clara said, startling a laugh from everyone.

“Mom,” Adrian admonished, though she, too, laughed.

Clara took a sip of her whiskey and shrugged. “I don’t have much use for beating around the bush.”

“What did he do next?” Ryan asked.

“He dumped his package in the bin, then walked back to the Ely house,” Clara continued. “Again, unfortunately for him, I’m a nosy old biddy, and I wanted to know what he dumped. I waited until I saw him leave. He drives the kind of jacked-up truck that assholes think makes them look tough. The kind real farmers scoff at. You know the type. They usually have a pair of fake testicles hanging from a trailer hitch they wouldn’t know how to use if their life depended on it.”

Ryan smiled. “Yeah, I know the type.”

“When he was gone, I popped across the street, opened the bin, and found a bag. Like a gym bag. Bigger than a backpack, but not as big as a weekend bag.” She paused and took another sip. “Now, I don’t know about you all, but when someone dumps a bag in someone else’s bin in the dead of night, I’m sure as hell going to look inside.” For the first time, the energy that surrounded Clara dimmed, and her gaze dropped to her drink. “When I did, I found the baby. Zoe.”

A quiet sob broke from Amber, and Juan set his hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t make this easier for her, but he could remind her she wasn’t alone.

“At first, well, I didn’t think it was looking good for her. I thought I’d found a body. A tiny but perfectly shaped little body. Silent and still covered in afterbirth.” Another sip and an inhale. “But then she moved,” Clara said, her voice growing stronger again. “She curled her little fist, and in that moment, I knew I had two things to do. The first was save her and the second was protect her from Anthony Ely.”

Respect and admiration swelled inside Juan. His brothers were the best of men. And the Warwicks were good allies, too. He was surrounded by good people all the time. People who cared, people who fought the good fight, people who set the standard. But Clara and Adrian? They were a whole different ball game.

“You were a NICU nurse,” Leo said.

Clara nodded. “I brought her inside my home, cleaned her, warmed her, and called Adrian. I didn’t know how premature she was, but I knew she needed more care than what I could give her on my own.”

“She was twenty-nine weeks,” Amber said.

Clara nodded. “Makes sense. Still too early, but most of the vital bits developed. High survival rates with advanced care. We didn’t have advanced care, but we had two experienced nurses, each with a will of iron.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” Ryan asked.